A Case For Conners

Chapter 9

Chapter 8: Five-Star Murder

Conners sat in his relatively new living room examining a client that was begging for his help. The man was about thirty, with dark hair and a certain refinement that only comes from high society breeding. Conners noticed that the man was an internet porn addict, that he took sugar in his morning coffee and that he wasn't used to walking more than two blocks on foot.

"The thing is," said Rick Louis, his client. "I'm afraid I'm going to be next. All my friends from work are being killed and I know I'm going to be next."

"So, why me?" Conners asked. "Why not contact the cops if you're so concerned?"

Two accidental gestures followed. Louis shifted his gaze downward just as he scratched his left arm, right below the joint. Conners had learned face reading and body language when he'd still worked with Bill. The old man had taught him all he needed to know… at least for practical use in investigation.

"So, it's drugs. What is it, cocaine or heroin?"

The eyes told him all he needed, despite Rick's protest of, "I don't do drugs!"

"Coke then... You know, they say that's really bad for you. Consider it done. I'll find out who is after you and why. Leave the address of that hotel you all stayed at on the table and then leave me."

"You don't have anymore questions for me?"

"Not yet. If you tell your story before I see the scene I'll be prejudice towards what you think is important. This way all the evidence is fresh in my mind."

Rick stared at Conners for a few long moments, and then did as he was told. As soon as it was clear, Conners leapt up excitedly and ran to his wall of tools. He placed Sherry in her holster and handcuffs in his pocket before rushing off to the hotel address Rick had left him. It took him the better part of an hour to find the place, but Conners didn't feel like taking a cab right then. He needed to clear his mind, and approach the case without any predetermined inclinations.

He walked past the cars dropping off guests and businessmen, and as he walked in through the large rotating doors, adrenaline laced through his body and his mind took a snapshot.

The high, arched ceilings and marble floors were both cleaned to a shine. Bellhops and housekeepers were all hidden from view and the desk clerk was smiling, ready to greet him. It suggested a hell of a lot of hard work, and he doubted it stopped at a janitorial level, but that was the most important part. He walked up the to desk clerk, who launched into his speech.

"Hello there sir, and welcome to the..."

"Detective Michael Conners," he said, cutting the man off. "I need to see the conference suite a Rick Louis and several of his co-workers stayed in about four months ago."

Surprise flooded the man's face, but his training kept him from asking why. Still, he watched Conners with a curious eye.

"Of course, detective. I will need to check with the local force to confirm this. We weren't really expecting you. Is anything wrong?"

"I certainly hope not. I'll need the number of the housekeeper who attended to that suite. Quickly, time's a factor."

"Of course, sir. I have the suite number and the file on the housekeeper. I'll have the file on paper by the time you get back. The number is 495, and here's the house key. Who should I ask the station for, just to confirm this?"

"Lawrence, Detective Jessica Lawrence. Badge number is 1-3-1-6."

With that, Conners took the elevator to the right floor, and ran to room 495. Guests he passed gave him queer looks, but he was in a hurry now. With a quick swipe the door clicked open and he walked in, adrenaline blazing like wildfire. His mind began eagerly jotting down facts for him.

The carpet is a different color and pattern than the hall. It's new, and was placed recently. The old one was torn up, not just left under the new one. Whoever did this was a professional.

He shifted the bed just a hair.

The carpet's not just new, it's brand new. The furniture hasn't even left lasting imprints. The walls aren't showing any dust either. It looks like they've been painted over, probably along with the carpet change.

Unfortunately, the rest of the room was not so helpful. Nothing else unexpected came up, because almost everything was cleaned within an inch of being quarantined. The sheets were clean, tables shiny and mini-bar fully stocked.

He arrived back at the desk just in time to catch what was, without a doubt, the end of Lawrence's long rant about his being there. After a moment, the clerk hung up and glanced at him.

"Detective Lawrence confirmed your work here, though she was... specific about your title, private detective."

"Oh yes, that's smart, make fun of a guy who clearly has enough pull to get you arrested on a whim. Stop embarrassing yourself by attempting to embarrass me, and give me that file."

All pretense of friendly service gone, the clerk threw the file to Conners. He caught it with ease and soon had the phone number and address of Harry Anderson, the housekeeper who had cleaned that room. After three rings, a voice answered him.

"Hello?"

The voice was sleepy, even in the middle of the afternoon, a man likely working two jobs then.

"My name is detective Michael J. Conners. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about..."

"Oh," said the man in a knowing tone. "This is about those deaths right? I already talked to the cops about all that."

The voice was irritated, but not defiant.

"I'm not a cop. I'm trying to keep your name clear of this whole mess."

It wasn't true, but it might end up being true if he was innocent.

"Yeah sure, I guess. Can you meet me up at the hotel? I work from 3 to 9 tonight."

"Of course, I'm here waiting."

The time passed quickly for Conners, who was eating some jolly ranchers. He found they helped his mind work on difficult cases. As soon as Harry arrived, Conners knew he was an employee. The most obvious sign was lack of leisure. He was dressed in plain black clothes and bore no luggage. He wasn't bringing anything in with him and very few people he knew would vacation in clothes like that.

"Harry?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, you must be the detective. Look I'll tell you what I know but it's not much."

"That's fine, you did clean the room that the business group stayed in, right?"

"Yeah, place was pretty trashed."

"Can you explain?"

"Beer bottles all over, couple condoms, that sort of thing. Took almost an hour to clean all that s**t up."

Conners nodded, saying, "Was there anything unusual that stuck out to you?"

Harry snorted, "Anything unusual about a bunch of business suits getting wasted? Not really, no. It happens a lot here."

"You do know you're a main suspect here?"

"Why? I didn't do anything!"

"They think that because you had to clean the place after they wrecked it, that might be the last straw on the camel's back, so to speak. After all the information on the guests are in the computer system so you could easily see where they live."

Harry's eyes went wide.

"You're right," he said, suddenly. "It was me. I know I can't really hide this much longer. I want a deal."

Conners' bullshit reader was off the charts, and it was at that moment the clerk called out to him.

"Detective, you have a call."

He snatched up the receiver, "Conners here."

"Conners, it's Lawrence."

"That's odd," he said.

"What's odd?"

"I don't remember asking for phone s*x but if you're game, I am."

"Will you shut up for ten seconds?"

"I'll try for five, but that's pushing it."

"We just found another executive from your hotel dead on his toilet."

"Really? Well that is... problematic. How fresh is the body?"

"Minutes, no more than half an hour."

"Thank you," he said hanging up on her.

He walked back to Harry who was still insisting, "Look detective, I know what I did was wrong, but I need a deal or they'll just chew me out in jail."

"Oh quit it," Conners said. "Who are you protecting?"

"No one!"

"All righty then. Mr. Clerk I need the number of a Mr. No One! What's that? You don't have anyone here by that name? How odd... that's the name I was given."

"I'm not telling you," said Harry softly.

Conners had little choice but to let Harry go. Of course, Harry was an i***t because he'd forgotten something... cameras. Now, because of privacy, there weren't cameras in the actual rooms, but there didn't need to be. Conners needed to see who connected with Harry the most, and who was most likely to clean a room for him.

It took the better part of an evening, several jolly ranchers, and a clerk taking a phone book to the head, but eventually Conners had his man. He went back to the clerk and checked the file briefly. His murderer had listed a number and address. So, all that was let was just to wrap everything up.

The cab ride took less than five minutes. He went to the apartment room and banged on the door loudly. There was no response, so he kicked the door in. His mind instantly took a snapshot. He ignored the flooring and walls; they were set up by the owner, and therefore had little importance in proof.

Conners did find some things of interest though. The man obviously came home from work irritated everyday because clothes were strewn all over the place. The stack of papers crumpled around the wastebasket suggested planning. He could see the butt of a gun sticking out from the couch.

He was confirming his theories when he heard the door creak behind him. Turning, Conners just had time to inhale as the newcomer attacked him. This had to be Chris Heart, the man he'd picked out as the actual cleaner. It was obvious that Harry was just covering for something. Conners figured the most likely theory was that it wasn't actually Harry who cleaned the room, he'd had help from a friend.

So, Chris had done it for him and the camera had confirmed it. None of the actual rooms had cameras, but all of them had cameras in the hallways. Chris and Harry had regular meets and conversations: a handshake there and a high-five there. It should be enough evidence altogether for a confession or conviction.

Chris came at him with a knife and Conners leaned back so that the attack went wide. Then, he kicked out hard, hitting the boy in the stomach. Chris fell to the floor in pain, but leapt up and Conners realized Chris as someone who had taken several self-defense classes. Chris hurled the knife at Conners and he jumped as high as he could, dodging the attack before dropping to the ground on all fours.

Chris wasn't sure how to approach him and Conners swept his legs around, hitting Heart in the shins. The boy dropped down in pain and Conners leapt at him, but Chris was quick and hit him in the face with an elbow.

Conners screamed and reached for his knife, only to find he didn't have one. Of course, that was back when he'd been with Hunter, ages ago. A foot collided with his nose and Conners fell flat on the ground. He used the momentum to do a backwards somersault and landed with his feet shoulder width apart, and used the placement to shift into a judo stance.

Chris ran at him and Conners grabbed him by the neck and knee before pinning the boy into the ground and cuffing him.

"Asshole," he hissed. "You have the right to remain silent or I will kick your ass again..."